


Show Me Your Love.

by Twinklylights



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Based on a song, Fluff, Happy Ending, Little bit of angst, Love Languages, M/M, One Shot, gw2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-03-30 03:04:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19033465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twinklylights/pseuds/Twinklylights
Summary: "I think love is shown, you think love is spokenAnd we both coming' from the same place"In which Ian and Mickey find the middle ground of their different love languages.





	Show Me Your Love.

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely based off the song RPG by Kehlani & 6lack : ) Give it a listen !!
> 
> Questions , comments , concerns , roast and kudos allllll appreciated :)) lots of love ♡  
> [Follow me on twitter for tweets about Mick!!!](https://twitter.com/twinklylightss)

 

Show Me Your Love

It’s hot. It’s the middle of July, the AC’s been broken since June and Mickey’s hot. At a time like this, most people would find relief however they could and maybe not have a ginger sprawled across their chest. Mickey’s not like most people. Him and Ian have both been laying here for about 10 minutes in a post-coital haze. The windows cracked but its not doing much for either of them, but still, Mickey has no intentions of moving from this position. Ian’s laying across his chest and has a finger tracing the freckles up and down Mickey’s arm. People always label Ian as the freckled one of the two, but if you ever get close like this, you can see Mickey has just as many. They’re light, but they’re there. Ian’s always this close. As Ian’s finger moves, Mickey’s eyes begin to droop, he’s about ready to fall asleep but the subtle way Ian’s moving up his bicep tickles him and he laughs a little, startled. Ian looks up at him. 

“You know, I really love you,” he says.

It’s quiet but the sincerity behind it makes Mickey’s heart skip a beat. He smiles, but Mickey doesn’t say anything back, he leans down kissing the crown of Ian’s head. Ian looks up at him before continuing. 

“It’s like, I always knew I was gay. And I always knew I would end up with some guy, somewhere, at some point but I never thought it be like this, anyone like you. Mick, I couldn’t imagine this, imagine _you_ in my wildest dreams.”

 He’s had a long day and he’s really tired, so the words come out a little mumbled but clear enough that mickey still feels them radiating in his bones. He’s speechless. Ian’s always known what to say to leave him at a loss for words. It’s like Ian’s in his head, unknowingly saying all the things Mickey is thinking but not saying aloud.

Ian’s too tired to read into Mickey’s silence right now. It’s always like this, Ian pours his heart out and mickey just gives him a fond look with that twinkle in his eye and his cheeks go red. At first Ian thought he didn’t feel the same, which caused an alcohol induced breakdown in the back of Lip’s car at 2 in the morning. After the freak out, he had come home and went about the day with Mickey, who had just suddenly decided to say “Love ya” as they went to bed that night. Ian knows Mickey loves him it’s just that the extra words aren’t always there. Those extra words of reassurance that he needs. That he craves. Mickey’s always affectionately calling him asshole and kissing his cheek throughout the day, and that’s all great, but he’ll never say how he really feels about Ian.

Eventually Ian falls asleep, leaving Mickey with his thoughts. His feelings. All about this one boy. He sighs, leaning down to kiss Ian’s forehead before drifting off to sleep.  

* * *

 

Ian’s been on the phone for about 20 minutes now. At this point he’s not entirely sure who he’s talking to, could be Carl, could be Lip might even be Debbie. All the voices seem to be coming through the speaker muffled and the room around him has all become a blur. Their words are echoing in his head on a constant loop. _Frank is dead. Frank is dead. Frank is dead._ The line clicks and he assumes either the call dropped, or everyone just hung up because they got tired of his silence and heavy breathing. He sets the phone down and begins pacing the kitchen. He’s still not breathing properly, and his hands are shaking.  They always knew this was going to happen eventually, sometimes they even hoped for it but now that it’s a reality, Ian’s not sure how to feel. Sure, Frank was always more of hassle than a father but now he’s actually dead. It’s a weird feeling. It’s like another part of him missing. Forever. In his fifth lap around the kitchen he hears the door unlock and Mickey come in. Mickey exclaims a greeting which grants him no response, before he walks into the kitchen. He drops a plastic bag onto the counter and immediately notices Ian’s frantic state. He’s quick to respond and comes up to him, gently grabbing his hands and ushering him to sit down at the table. Ian complies, sitting down but his breathing is nowhere near regular. Mickey narrows his eyes and scans them around the kitchen, searching for a clue as to what could be the cause of Ian’s sudden hysteria. When he doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, he decides asking Ian might clue him in.

“Hey, what’s the matter tough guy?” he asks softly, wiping the tears away that are staining Ian’s cheeks. The answer that he gets, is nowhere near the answer that he’s expecting.

“Frank’s dead.”, Ian whispers, barely keeping it together. Mickey is stunned at this but doesn’t waste anytime asking questions or for details on what had finally caused the man’s cessation. He drops Ian’s hands, and places his firmly to Ian’s face. At first Ian won’t meet his eyes but eventually he looks up. Mickey’s chest goes tight, seeing the pain behind them. They had once laughed about the day Frank would be found dead in a ditch somewhere and the relief everyone would feel, but deep-down Mickey never wanted that day to come. He knew how bad it would hurt Ian even considering the fact that Frank was a piece of shit. He didn’t want to see him go through that. 

“Ian its okay. It’s all gonna be okay I’m right here,” he says in a whisper. He’s never been quite sure what to say when someone dies, especially someone like Frank, but he knows he needs to comfort Ian right now. He needs Ian to know he’s there. He needs Ian to be okay. He hoped his words would be at least somewhat comforting, but now Ian’s full on sobbing. He immediately stands them both up and pulls Ian into his chest, wrapping him into a hug. Ian’s shoulders are shaking as the tears fall. Mickey’s doing his best to keep it together himself but seeing how broken Ian is in front of him is taking a lot out of him. He doesn’t even know what happened to Frank, but he knows he wishes he could go back and stop it. Stop it from touching Ian. He’s gently swaying the two of them, hoping to calm Ian down or at least tire him out so he’ll want to lay down and deal with all of this tomorrow. When Ian’s breathing finally evens out, Mickey leans up and kisses him. The kiss is soft but firm against Ian’s lips. Mickey hopes it comes off as a nonverbal expression of “ _I love you. I’m here for you. You’re gonna be okay.”_

Ian’s finally calmed down as much as expected and he lets out a heavy sigh. This was not how today was supposed to go. Mickey’s giving him that fond look again, this time with a mix of sympathy and something else Ian can’t place. Mickey brings his hand up, ruffling Ian’s hair a bit. This draws a small laugh out of both them. Mickey decides they’ve both had enough emotion for the day and walks over to the fridge. He takes out 2 bottles of beer, heads to the cupboard and pulls out a bag of barbecue chips that have been open way too long, before turning back to Ian.

“Movie?” he asks, hoping some shitty acting by a random C-list actor might help take Ian’s mind of his most recent family catastrophe.

“Only if you let me pick.” Ian answers with a slight smirk. He’s already heading to tv stand looking through DVDs.

“I always let you pick asshole” Mickey says setting up camp on the couch.

He places the snacks on the table and fluffs the pillows in an attempt to make the thousand-year-old couch somewhat comfy. He plops himself down as Ian is closing the DVD player and getting up. Mickey lifts his arm up and Ian graciously takes the invitation, laying himself at Mickeys shoulder. Mickey then lifts them both up briefly to press play on the remote. He blows out a breath when sees the title screen, _Rescue Dawn._ He can’t say he’s shocked that Ian chose this, they always end up watching a war movie, but this one Ian particularly likes and picks on bad days, Mickey thinks it has something to do with Christian Bale. They both settle into the couch, snuggling as close as they can get. Mickey’s got Ian’s hand in his and he’s rubbing his thumb softly over his knuckles. The freckles on Ian’s hands are so much more noticeable in the summertime, Mickey often finds himself absentmindedly tracing them. About and hour into the movie, Mickey notices Ian has fallen asleep, he turns the movie off, opting for a re-run of some old cartoon. He’s not suffering through that longer than he has to. He stays there for a while, appreciating the stillness of the moment. Its not always like this, and it’s certainly not always going to be, but for the time being he’s grateful. He figures he might as well try to sleep now before the Gallagher clan is calling back to discuss all of this further. He kisses the crown of Ian head, breathing in the scent of his shampoo before closing his eyes. A few moments later something comes to his memory and he’s opening his eyes looking Ian sympathetically. He gets up as gently as he can without waking Ian before he has to and lays him back against the pillows. He goes into the kitchen and picks up the bag he came in with earlier. He had gone out to pick up a pack of smokes, but he couldn’t resist getting something specifically for Ian. Ian’s always on his mind. He nudges Ian’s shoulder which only makes him groan and try to shuffle closer to the couch. Mickey tries again, shaking him, before adding

“Wake up Gallagher, I got something for you.” He pushes the bag into Ian’s hands. Ian yawns, sitting up.  He knew Mick only went out for smokes and he didn’t ask him to bring him back anything so he’s not sure what to expect in the bag. Mick can be unpredictable when he wants to be.  Ian reaches in and pulls out a two shot glasses. At first, he’s confused, him and Mickey have collected plenty over the years, but then he turns them around reading the white font. _You are the gin to my tonic. You are the vodka to my soda._ Mickey’s giving him that look again, and he can’t help but laugh at the cheesiness of it all.

“Why thank you, I think I’ve definitely earned myself a drink after today.” He says pulling Mickey down to kiss his cheek, which of course, is a subtle shade of red.

“Yeah Gallagher, lets get ya wasted before I take you to bed.” Mickey says, heading to kitchen. Ian laughs but follows him. Mick pour’s them both a shot.

“Wasted? You trying to take advantage of me?” Ian says, taking the glass out of Mickey’s hand.

“Don’t need to.”, Mickey answers smugly

“You’re lucky I love you or I would be offended.”

Mickey doesn’t say anything back, and Ian takes that as a sign that he’s ready for the drink. He lifts his glass up, signaling a _cheers_ and they both knock them back. Ian’s face grimaces at the taste.

“This shits gross.” Ian says but he’s already reaching for the bottle.

“Easy tough guy, don’t wanna be taking care of you any more than I have to tonight.”

He waits for Ian to finish pouring his second shot before he takes the bottle and pours one for himself. Ian takes the second shot and grimaces just the same.

“Don’t act like you don’t like taking care of me.” Ian laughs.

Mickey’s eyes are suddenly focused on the random dirt spot on the tile beneath his feet, he shakes his head, laughing, of course, he likes taking care of Ian. He loves Ian.

* * *

 

The funerals quick and there’s more drunk laugher from everyone than tears. Afterwards they end up spending most of the day at Fiona’s, all appreciating her working AC. Mick hasn’t said much today and Ian finds it a little off-putting. No one was especially close to frank so it’s not that he’s expecting him to be losing his mind over this sudden loss but the lack of even a sarcastic comment is surprising.  He can’t deny that Mick’s been close to him all day , a hand on his knee while Lip gave his own fucked up version of an eulogy  , an arm around his waist while they walked to the burial sight , He even kissed him in the car on the way back to the house. Once everyone’s settled down and passed out, Mickey figures it’s time to go home before they end up staying the night cramped in Ian’s old tiny bed. They bid everyone a quick goodbye before heading to the car. They’re both quiet but Ian has a funny look on his face even taking into account, that it is the day of Franks funeral. Mickey starts driving and Ian still hasn’t said anything. The radio’s playing some old 70’s rock song and the only other sound is the occasional sputter of the engine. Mick stops at a red light and looks over at Ian. Ian looks completely drained but his brows furrowed like his deep in thought about something.

“You okay?” he asks, obviously things could be better, but he figures this is a start at a conversation. Ian seems to blink more awake before looking over at him. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally speaking.

“Do you love me?” he asks with such a sense of curiosity it stuns Mickey. He sounds like its truly something he doesn’t know, and he thinks Mickey has the answer. Mickey almost laughs at the absurdity of the question but when he looks over and sees how serious Ian looks, he doesn’t. Ian continues before Mickey can form a proper response.

“Cause you never really tell me, and you never tell me how you feel about me, and I don’t wanna die someday and you only be able to go up and talk about how much you like my dick.”

Mickey’s taken aback. Clearly Ian isn’t joking. His hearts beating in his chest a little too fast and his hands are gripping the steering wheel so hard he feels like his hands might explode. His mind starts racing, wondering how Ian could have come to this conclusion.  He kisses Ian all the time, he _wants_ to kiss Ian all the time, he thinks about him constantly, he asks him how he’s feeling and if he’s hungry, he picks him up vitamins and takes pictures of him when he’s not looking, he deals with Ian’s dysfunctional family, he feels comfortable around Ian, he _wants_ to be around Ian just to see him smile. Of course, he loves him, how could he not? Suddenly all that doesn’t even matter, just because he’s not writing love letters and making heartfelt confessions every day. He’s silent as he pulls up to the house. They both get out without a word and head in. Ian goes straight to bottle of alcohol in the fridge, taking a large gulp.

Ian can’t even look at Mickey right now. The Silence after the question was all the confirmation Ian needed. He takes the bottle and makes way to their shared room, but Mickey puts his hand out, stopping him from getting and further.

“Wait.” He says. He sounds hesitant, but Ian does what he says without complaint. he stops in his tracks and turns to look at him. Mickey looks drained and he can’t tell if it’s because of the earlier events of the day or whatever discussion they’re about to have.

“Do you really think I don’t love you?”. He can barely get through the question without his voice cracking. The words _“I don’t love you_ ”, even in the context, feel like poison on his tongue.

Ian sets the bottle down and lets out a heavy sigh.

“I… I just … I don’t know. You never really say it back and I can never tell how I make you feel, _if_ I even make you feel anything”

Mickey’s looking at the bottle and he feels like he’s gonna need it and about fifty more if he’s gonna make it through the night. He decides against it, before finally speaking. He lets out a laugh before he starts, which only makes Ian feel more upset.

“Ian, of course I love you. I love you so much its scary man.” Something in Ian’s face changes and he looks like he’s about to speak, Mickey puts his hand up to stop him before he can interrupt.

“Do you know how scary it is for me to feel like this? It’s like you’re everything I never knew I needed. You make me so fucking happy. Ian, if I told you I loved you every time I thought it, I’d never shut the fuck up.”

Ian’s eyes are red like he’s got something in them, but Mickey can’t be entirely sure because he definitely has something in his. Mickey reaches his hand out and grabs on to Ian’s looking into his eyes.

“Ian, sometimes I feel like if I say it out loud, someone could come and try to fuck it up ya know? But man, I’m trying so hard to show you, you gotta know that.

 He walks over to Mickey pulling him close. He reaches a hand up, thumbing at his cheek. There’s a hint of stubble there that drives him wild. Mickey’s got that look in his eyes again, but Ian now knows its love. Without a word he presses their lips together.  At first its soft but soon he’s touching every part of Mickey he can and trying to get his tongue to express all the things his body is feeling. He takes his mouth away from Mick’s just to place it right by his ear before whispering,

“I want to show you too."

* * *

 

Things have settled down in these last few months. Nobodies dying, it’s not 80 degrees everyday and Ian And Mickey can both say they’re both genuinely happy together. Not that that was ever up for debate. Ian’s been awake for a little while now. Mickey got up to make breakfast so he’s really just enjoying being able to take up as much of the bed as pleases.  After a while, whatever Mickey’s making starts to smell good and he figures he might as well go join him. He makes a quick pitstop to the bathroom, turning on the light. He does his business and goes to the sink to wash his hands. As he turns on the warm water, he notices a sticky note slapped on the mirror. He smiles before drying his hands and picking it up. The blue sticky note is covered in Mickey’s red handwriting.

_“Good Morning. I’m making Pancakes. I guess I’ll make enough for both of us. Take your meds and come join me, I like your company. Makes me feel like someone’s listening.  Love you Gallagher. - Mick.”_

Ian smiles at the note, taking it and adding it to the collection building in his bedside table’s drawer. They do this now. Little notes to each other that say the words they’re both thinking. There’s enough action behind it that Mickey feels good doing it and enough words being said that Ian doesn’t have any doubts. There’s no doubt that they both love each other more than anything, they just have different ways of showing it. These notes have been a nice middle ground.

Mickey smiles up at him when he comes into the kitchen and hands him a plate and a cup of coffee. They sit together, in silence, eating for a few minutes before Mickey brings up what’s been on his mind all morning.

“Grateful huh?” He says, referencing the note Ian had left for him to find this morning stuck to the coffee maker. When Ian had wrote the first note all those weeks ago ,and stuck it to the shower door, that had only said “I love you, have a great day!” But today , 50 notes later ,Ian wrote that he was “grateful” for Mickey and that Mickey made him feel “important and loved”. Ian smiles at him across the table, but he’s got a certain look in his eyes.

“Always.”


End file.
